


these are the hands of fate

by LeaOotori



Series: state of grace [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Enemy Lovers, Kurapika's mother makes a cameo, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, York New Arc, angry pika, poor kurapika I really like hurting him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaOotori/pseuds/LeaOotori
Summary: The same swirls and dots and lines, the pattern he had grown so familiar with over the years…...it was there. On the arm of his worst enemy.They had the same soul mark.





	these are the hands of fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I'm back with another KurapikaxChrollo fic after forever... believe me, I've been working on this on and off for a month now, even though it isn't even that long. It's been giving me all hell. No matter how long I stare at it, I can't figure out how to make it feel right, so I decided to post the best version I could muster up. *shrugs* Go ahead and get to reading-- please enjoy! 
> 
> *note: two scenes of this (the car scene and the ending scene) are basically my interpreted transcripts of the 2011 version of the anime. This is mostly canon compliant, so I tried to fit it into the ending of the York New Arc. Also, WARNING: There is a little bit of mild violence scattered throughout this.

Lyrically inspired by: [State of Grace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fJ66hmNwWQ) and [State of Grace Acoustic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FJbTD7-3JU), but I don't think either sonically really fits the tone of this...

* * *

 

_“Momma?” the little boy called out, climbing shakily onto the tall chair at his mother’s side. “Momma!”_

****

_The older woman turned to look at her son, whose blonde hair was sticking to his ruddy face with sweat and mud. Clicking her tongue, she brushed aside his bangs, eyes flitting over him worriedly. “What is it now?” Pouting, the little boy stuck out his arm at her, little cuts and nicks all over his hands as usual. Seeing it, she sighed. “Did you go out into the backwoods with Pairo again?”_

****

_Stubbornly, the child shook his head, golden hair whipping around his face, the lie obvious to anyone who happened to be watching. She raised an eyebrow at that, abandoning her work to find the small box she had filled with herbs and bandages especially for her son._

****

_“Show me where it hurts,” she told him. Sniffling, he pulled back his left sleeve, where a bright red mark marred his skin, almost glowing. Her eyes widened as she set the bandages down on the table, reaching for the boy’s wrist to take a closer look. “It’s your soul mark,” she muttered under her breath._

****

_“What?” the child looked at her in utter confusion. “What’s that? It hurts, Momma.”_

****

_“I know, Pika, I know it does.” She rubbed a gentle finger over the mark. “It’ll get better soon.” Picking up first aid box, she set to work on the rest of the cuts her son had managed to acquire, wondering why on Earth her son had gotten his mark so early._

****

* * *

****

It had been at least an hour since Kurapika had sat up in bed, panting and unsettled from his dream.

****

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick._

****

Every second passing felt like an eternity. _Reaching, reaching, reaching._ For what? _Who knew._ The air was so thick that he felt as though he couldn’t breathe as he lay still gasping on his bed, sheets tangled about his legs, cocooning him, trapping him. _Pale hands reaching for him, wicked smiles in the dark of night, daggers aimed towards the corners of his eyes..._

****

It was still dark out.

****

He could not see the clock in the pitch blackness, but neither did he care to. Instead, he just huddled at the corner of his bed, back pressed into a wall, trying to be quiet enough that he couldn’t hear his own pathetic labored breathing in the dead silent room. His wrist was throbbing, throbbing,  _throbbing._  It felt like he had been cut along the lines of the terrible mark that stained his arm. Hissing a curse under his breath, he tucked his arm into the sheets and tried to ignore the pain, to no avail.

****

_What’s going on?_ The Kurta had no answer for his own question, and much like a child, he felt too afraid to move from the spot he was sitting in. Every breath brought back moments of terror from his nightmare as it flashed across the darkness surrounding him.

****

And so he sat, unmoving, until dawn broke.

****

* * *

 

****

_Everything has gone according to plan._ The words did nothing to dispel the foul pit of anger in his stomach, but it kept him from doubting his own smarts. _This will work. It has to._

****

The car was running down the road at high speed, the thrumming of the engine vibrating the seats and the car door that Kurapika was trying to become one with. _Anything_ to sit as far away from the human scum to his right as possible.

****

From his position, the blonde caught Leorio’s worried glance into the side view mirror as he turned a corner. “Don’t worry about it Leorio. The enemy was injured in the attack, so they’re likely going to stay put until backup arrives.”

****

With that, Kurapika sat back again, attempting his best to look confident and at ease when all his fingers itched to do was strangle someone. A _certain_ someone. The backup plan had been going smoothly thus far, if he was to disregard the fact that Killua and Gon were in the hands of the Spiders. _I’ll get them back,_ he promised himself. _I’ll do anything._ From the corner of his eye, the Kurta caught the impassive gaze of the leader of the Phantom Troupe.

****

“What are you looking at?” He spat at him.

****

“Nothing,” Chrollo remarked plainly, turning back to the window with such ease that it appeared almost as though _he_ was the kidnapper instead of the kidnappee. “I just didn’t expect the chain-user to be a woman.”

****

“Who said I was?” Kurapika huffed, reaching up to grab at the back of his wig and pulling it off in one fell swoop. “I thought you knew better than to trust appearances.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt like Chrollo had suspected it all along, but this was a ploy just to get the raw truth. _His motive does not matter. I am losing nothing,_ the blonde told himself, but the whole situation had his blood burning right at the surface of his skin. “Regardless,” he continued, “you should watch what you say, since it may well be the last thing out of your mouth.”

****

“You aren’t going to kill me,” the older man said simply, directing his gaze ahead. “Not after you left your precious friends behind.”

****

The Kurta could feel his nails cutting into his palms as his hands tightened to fists. “I may _appear_ calm and composed, but I will not ignore your threats!” He was positively seething, more so as the other man continued to pretend as though he wasn’t even there.

****

“Kurapika,” Leorio called from the driver’s seat. “That’s enough.” While his words reined in the Kurta somewhat, they did nothing to stop Chrollo from continuing to taunt him.

****

“The girl’s fortune failed to mention this,” the Troupe Leader remarked nonchalantly. “Therefore this event isn’t significant enough to matter.” He seemed to pause just a tad to make sure his words sunk in _just_ right. “Or else, I am quite certain it would have come up.”

****

“ _Bastard!_ ” The blonde hissed in turn, raising nearly up off his seat with his fists rearing to punch that stupid goddamned _smirk_ off of the other man’s face—

****

“ _Kurapika!_ ” Melody turned to look at him, and something in her soft eyes stilled him.

****

“If you kill him,” Leorio yelled, “I'll kick your ass!” Both of them knew that would never happen, but it was the sort of grounding that the Kurta needed.

****

Chrollo looked like he was nearly laughing at this point, lips turned up in an unsettlingly unhinged smile as Kurapika ground his teeth, wondering if it was worth it to take his friends’ wrath if it meant he could make the _piece of shit_ in front of him suffer for what he had done.

****

The Troupe Leader raised his eyebrows as he surveyed the younger boy’s condition, some reflection of twisted mirth appearing in his stone cold eyes. “Should I explain further?” He asked, as though he was expecting a response. “This situation is _nothing._ It’s no different than an afternoon coffee break.” Kurapika could just _feel_ his eyes burn as his vision turned red. “In fact,” Chrollo continued. “it’s quite peaceful.”

****

Somehow, the Kurta wasn’t sure when he had snapped. He just felt the anger surging through him and the satisfying crunch of bone and skin hitting his fist as he pummeled the bastard, each strike only stoking the fire in his heart instead of easing it.

****

“Kurapika! Calm down!” He could hear someone saying, but he paid it no mind. All the other voices faded to white noise as the blood rushed through his ears.

****

Chrollo turned to look at him, eyes practically sparkling sadistically. “I have no value as a hostage,” he said.

****

“Shut _up_!” The blonde hissed, ready to tear the little shit’s skin off with his bare hands. _Liar liar liar liar--_

****

“Kurapika, wait!” Melody interrupted, turning back again to look him in the eye. “It’s the truth.” She almost looked nervous. “Everything… everything he’s told us so far is sincere.”

****

The words almost took all the wind from Kurapika’s sails. He felt himself sinking into the seat, shoving his hostage back onto the left side of the car, feeling burned where he had touched him.  _How? What? Were my deductions wrong? Gon and Killua, they…_

****

“There you have it,” Chrollo remarked from his right, sounding very amused despite the blood on his lip and the bruises blooming along his jaw. “ _This_ is reality, and _you’re_ the one who’s cornered.”

****

* * *

 

 

It had barely been a couple of minutes since Chrollo had made his disturbingly calm statement. _“You’re the one that’s cornered.”_ The words were almost ringing in Kurapika’s head. _Calm down. I can’t give up now._ He was too far along. This would have to work, no matter what. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ease the tension from his frame, steeling his voice once more. “Were you the leader of the Troupe five years ago, when they mercilessly slaughtered the Kurta for the Scarlet Eyes?”

****

Chrollo did not turn at his voice, still vacantly looking around as if he were on an afternoon stroll. There was a pause that caused the Kurta to wonder if the other man had heard him at all. Finally, he spoke. “Are those the chains you killed Uvo with?” Even when speaking of a murdered comrade, he was ever-so-calm. “What were his last words?”

****

Kurapika grit his teeth. _How dare he?_ “I don’t remember,” he replied curtly.

****

“That’s isn’t true, is it?” The Troupe Leader’s eyes seemed to go right through him. “Am I right, miss?” The question seemed to be directed towards Melody, who stayed stubbornly silent. “But I can relate.” He tilted his head, his gaze becoming truly cold for the first time since he had been abducted. All former amusement was gone. “I feel the same. I have nothing to say to you.”

****

“Dammit,” Kurapika muttered. “Dammit!”

****

“He’s trying to provoke you,” Leorio yelled again. If the Kurta had been in his right mind, he would have scolded his friend and told him to keep his eyes on the road. But he wasn’t in his right mind right now, and crashing was the furthest thing from his thoughts. “Don’t fall for it!”

****

“ _Dammit!”_ He was positively seething, not even attempting to remain calm. He’d probably been biting his tongue, considering how his mouth suddenly filled with the irony taste of blood. Running his fingers over the cold conjured chains on his hand, he tried to calm himself down, knowing this would never work if he didn’t have a cool head.

****

Meanwhile, Chrollo watched his kidnapper from the corner of his eye, watching, contemplating, thinking. _That proves it,_ he decided. _I’m surprised. The chain-user has a weakness. One that I can exploit._

****

* * *

 

****

Hours had passed since Chrollo had been sitting in the car, smugly plotting exactly how he would make his escape. He knew his Troupe, and they knew the rules. The Spider was the most important thing of all. It had been established from day one. Or, it _should_ have been.

****

Apparently, it hadn’t been communicated as well as he had expected, especially since he was now sitting, still bound in chains, on a crate in an airship. Especially since Pakunoda _herself_ had come to _negotiate_ his release at risk of losing half of the Troupe. _Especially_ since she had agreed to return the two kids unharmed, even if Chrollo lost his nen and might never be able to interact with the Troupe again. _What had she been thinking?_

****

_No,_ Chrollo realized, _what were_ any _of them thinking?_ Surely this decision had been reached by more than just Paku-- the others would have tailed her if that had been in the case. He knew how powerful and skilled his members were. If anything, there had to be an even split of opinions in the least, if everything was going according to the chain-user’s whims.

****

At the realization, the leader almost laughed. In fact, maybe he would have, if he hadn’t been gagged with chains. _How ironic,_ he thought to himself. _A Troupe of heartless thieves, sacrificing for their leader._ And here he’d thought that he had taught them bloodlust well.

****

Before he could continue his internal monologue any further, he heard voices from the other end of the storage chamber, where the chain-user had been sitting, holding him at the end of his chains like a dog on a leash. It seemed that the man who had been driving had walked in.

****

“Kurapika! How did it go?” the taller man asked.

****

“Almost too well,” the chain-user replied, giving Chrollo a scathing look. The Troupe Leader found no use in avoiding it, and instead reciprocated without blinking.

****

The suited man scratched his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

****

“She agreed to my terms,” the Kurta replied. “But I don’t like it.”

****

“What’s there not to like?”

****

“It was… almost too easy.”

****

_Easy,_ Chrollo laughed inwardly. _Is that what he thinks?_

****

The other man just shrugged. “Don’t overthink it, alright? Just stick to the plan and everything will be fine.”

****

* * *

 

****

“Why does Hisoka always show up at the worst times?” Leorio grumbled, pacing anxiously about the room.

****

“Calm down,” Melody said quietly. “It seems like it’s all under control.”

****

“I don’t trust him, not in the least!” he replied, turning to his younger friend. “Are you sure he’s not planning something?”

****

“He has a different motive,” Kurapika explained, sounding exhausted. “I don’t think he’ll cause too much of a problem.” Uncertainty still lingered about those words.

****

“Whatever,” Leorio shrugged, seeming too frustrated to carry on the conversation. “At least Killua and Gon are safe.”

****

“Hopefully.” Kurapika turned to look at his hostage, who was standing facing the opposite windows as the airship took off again. Judging by the relaxed slant of his shoulders and the hands forced into his pockets despite the chains wrapped around his body, one would think he was completely unburdened. But there was a lack of amusement and smugness to his features that couldn’t be ignored. For the first time since this had all started, the Kurta wondered for a moment if he had won.

****

* * *

 

****

It had been at least half an hour since Leorio had left to monitor the progress of the other airship and the preparations for the landing site. Melody, at Leorio’s urging, had followed along, leaving Kurapika alone so he could collect his thoughts. At first, he had been rehearsing all the things he would need to do as soon as he touched the ground. Thousands of worries plagued him: Gon and Killua being under the influence of nen, the landing site being ambushed, someone having snuck on the ship in disguise or undetected-- the list went on and on, many of which he had already taken measures against.

****

He was worried, and for good reason. Somewhere in this circle of anxiety, his eyes had wandered over to Chrollo, who had been sitting facing the windows for almost a while now, not saying a single word. Kurapika wasn’t sure why, but he watched him, curiously. Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected the murderer of his people to look so benign. If he had been a hulking monstrosity, perhaps, it might’ve been easier to express all the rage that was bottled up in his body. But with him looking so quiet and contemplative, it was much more difficult. _This is stupid,_ he thought suddenly. _None of that matters._ Before he could scold himself further, he heard his hostage clear his throat.

****

“The Kurta, was it?”

****

Kurapika looked at the other man, jaw throbbing from grinding his teeth together. “Who said you could speak?” Somewhere in his musings, the chains had fallen beneath Chrollo’s chin, freeing his mouth. He took to tighten them again, but was interrupted once more.

****

“What’s the point in gagging me?” the Troupe Leader asked, tone sounding so genuine it almost seemed like he was asking an honest question. “I no longer can use my nen. What are you afraid of me doing?”

****

“I am not _afraid,_ ” the blonde snapped. “I simply can’t stand you, and that is all.” _Why am I justifying myself to that monster?_

****

“I see.” Chrollo paused again. _He has a flair for the dramatic,_ the blonde mused. “I almost remember, now. The Kurta.”

****

_What?_ Kurapika clenched his fists slowly feeling his vision fade to red. “Why do you suddenly feel like speaking of it now?” he asked. “You didn’t seem so eager to offer up information before.” It was difficult to keep his voice from wavering.

****

“It does not matter why,” the Troupe Leader said simply. “All I have to say is that I always wished I hadn’t killed them all.”

****

The Kurta froze, heart thundering in his chest. _Regret?_ Had he just heard _regret?_

****

Chrollo turned to look at his captor in the face, dark eyes reflecting red glowing ones. “I realized afterwards that the Scarlet Eyes are much more beautiful in the fire of life rather than the dull guise of death.” He cocked his head. “I always thought to myself that I should’ve left one alive, just for me to keep.”

****

It was a blur. Kurapika wasn’t sure when he ended up straddled on Chrollo’s chest, pummeling him into the ground, _bruises upon bruises_ , blood staining his fists and blending into the sanguine backdrop of his vision. _How dare he? How_ ** _dare_** _he?_ It was strike after strike after strike until his fists were numb and his eyes burned. “Bastard,” he hissed. “ _Bastard!”_

****

He wasn’t sure when he stopped, but suddenly he had. Legs shaking with adrenaline, he slowly rose, some sadistic part of him relishing the way his mortal enemy was laid out on the floor, blood spilling over his lips and face red and puffy from the beating he’d taken. But Kurapika was nowhere near satisfied. Chrollo’s face showed no hint of resignation or humility, but rather of amusement. He had gotten exactly what he’d wanted: a reaction.

****

The blonde swallowed, wondering whether he should walk away or finish what he had started. His wrist was throbbing, likely from the assault, so he took to rubbing it subconsciously as he stared down the man he hated more than anything.

****

“Are you done?” the Troupe Leader asked cheekily, voice frustratingly even as he lay, bleeding on the floor. He seemed to act like nothing had happened at all. Kurapika glared at him, pulse in his ears, trying to catch his breath and control himself, all of it becoming increasingly more difficult as he had already snapped. His eyes flitted to Chrollo’s hands as he tried again to force them into his pockets, putting on a facade of being calm and collected. But that wasn’t what caught his attention the most. _No._

****

Lunging forward, Kurapika grabbed Chrollo’s wrist, which had been hidden under the sleeves of his large black coat-- until now, when the cloth had caught on the chains wound around the criminal’s body. _No no no no no no no no no no no--_

****

There was a mark on his arm. Most everyone had a mark there, so it shouldn’t have been something special.  _Except…_

****

Frantically, the Kurta pulled up his own sleeve, and it only took a split second for his worst fear to be confirmed. The same swirls and dots and lines, the pattern he had grown so familiar with over the years…

****

...it was there. On the arm of his worst enemy.

****

They had the same soul mark.

 

* * *

 

Kurapika wanted to rip his skin off. He was supposed to be _strong,_ damnit! But here he was, sitting on the floor of the hall, rocking back and forth like he was crazed, fingers raking over the godforsaken tattoo that was etched much too deep into his skin, leaving red scratches.

****

The lines seemed like they were burned into the backs of Kurapika’s eyelids, for even as he desperately tried to find something else to look at, he saw resemblances everywhere: on the walls, on the floor, even in the creases of his own palms.

****

_Why me? Why like this? Why him?_ Questions plagued him. Sane? He was no longer sane. He was feverish, anxious, angry, bursting with rage and sadness and he wanted to _cry_ and punch something and—

****

The Kurta choked back a sob, hands trembling he groped at his waist, looking, looking, _looking_. It took him a few infuriating moments, but he managed, shaking fingers fumbling about until they hit a leather hilt.

****

He drew a pocket knife from its sheath, the metal reflecting his eyes as they gleamed bright red in his pain. Kurapika grit his teeth. _What did I do to deserve this?_ Holding the knife in his hand, he moved it to the back of his left wrist, where the cursed tattoo branded him, stained him, _tainted_ him.

****

And then lowering the knife, he began to cut.

****

The knife sunk into the skin of the mark and he relished how the beading blood obscured the detailed linage from view. _Good,_ he thought, cutting through another line with a low hiss as red streaked down the sides of his shaking wrist, dripping to the floor.

****

_Disappear. Get off of me. Leave. Leave. Leave._

****

Suddenly the only thing that came to mind was Chrollo’s face, the quiet amusement, the smug smile that always seemed to dance on his lips, the assured way he stood and his cold, dark, merciless eyes-- _why him why him why him—_

****

Kurapika barely heard the knife clatter to the floor. He was just sitting there, hands covering his face, hearing disgusting sticky sobs from who-knows-where. It took him a moment to realize the cries were his own. Everything was red, from his wrist to his vision to the walls closing in on him overhead. _Stop stop stop stop stop--_ warm blood was streaming down his arm, seeping into his clothes, pooling in his palm and smearing across a side of his face-- _why why why why why why why—_ red everywhere, too much, way too much _too much too much--_

****

The blood dripped onto the floor, in sync with the slow ticking of the clock. _Tick. Tock. Drip. Drop._ He buried his nails in the wound, savoring the pain as it ripped up through his arm like fire, not being able to stop himself before he cried out, eyes watering immediately. The taste of iron filled his mouth, his lungs, his very _being._

****

He could hear pounding footsteps from down the hall. “Kurapika!?” The shout made the blonde look up, vision hazy with tears and anger. “ _Kurapika!_ ” There were more footfalls, more shouted words, some semblance of outrage, all of the above, but the Kurta no longer cared. He ignored all of it, evading his friends with unmet gazes and ignored inquiries.

****

“Listen to me, Kurapika!” Leorio snapped, grabbing the younger boy’s chin and yanking it haphazardly in his direction. “Are you listening?!”

****

Kurapika could hear the doctor-in-training shouting instructions to Melody and holding his wounded arm with the utmost care, but he couldn’t bring himself to process any of it; everything was garbled and distorted.

****

He could see the floor shifting as Leorio hauled him up, wrapping an arm around his waist to lug him down to the sitting quarters of the airship. His legs felt numb, like two heavy logs he had to haul. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he could hear murmuring voices, but it felt like he was underwater: he had no idea what they were saying.

****

Less than a few moments later, he was settled into the big fluffy couch in the center of the sitting room, head lolling back onto the cushions. Slowly, things began to come back into focus, though the red still stubbornly tinted his vision.

****

“Melody, hold his arm and keep putting pressure on it. I’m going to go get my briefcase,” he could hear Leorio saying. There was the vague sensation of his limp wrist changing positions before loud footsteps echoed through the halls again, Leorio taking off at a run.

****

Kurapika blinked at the blurry ceiling, moving his head to catch a glimpse of his colleague’s worried face. “What happened?” she asked, eyes wide, worried, searching.

****

He evaded the question, instead screwing his eyes shut stubbornly. _She deserves to know,_ his inner voice reasoned. _Look at everything she’s doing for you!_ Grimacing, he attempted to open his mouth to speak, but his throat was completely parched. Wincing, he tried to sit up instead, doing his best to school his features into some semblance of being okay. “I…”

****

She did not interrupt him or make any motion, but instead just stared at him intently. Listening.

****

“It’s…” Kurapika had never been at such a loss for words. He swallowed again, eyes darting to his own blood soaked wrist, where Melody was pressing down a ripped piece of fabric, presumably from Leorio’s shirt. “Chrollo, he…” His voice cracked pathetically. _It feels so wrong to say his name out loud._

****

Melody followed his gaze to the soul mark, questioning. It took a moment, but the Kurta could tell the exact moment that she realized what was going on. “It can’t be,” she mumbled, but she knew it had to be true. Kurapika’s heartbeat didn’t lie, as much as she wanted it to. “Maybe… maybe his has been altered,” she offered desperately. “Maybe it’s just another one of his ways to hurt you.” Taking a shaky breath, she paused. “Maybe… you didn’t see it right. You could be mistaken.”

****

Oh, how Kurapika wished that was the case. “No,” he said, shaking his head as the cold, hard truth set in. “He can’t use nen anymore, and… it’s been burning.” he supplied vaguely. “Around him.” It was almost funny how long it had taken him to notice. Perhaps the notion had been so foreign, so _otherworldly_ to him that he had never even considered it, even for a moment. That _Chrollo_ was the reason his soul mark had been burning. That _Chrollo_ was his…. _soul mate._

****

His companion remained silent, looking down at the blonde’s wrist with a mixed expression of pity and anger on her face. “You deserve so much better,” she said finally.

****

“I apologize.”

****

Melody’s head snapped up. “For what?”

****

“I… lost my cool.” the Kurta said, voice wavering in the slightest. “I let him get to me. I was weak.” He looked at his right hand, where the conjured chains had been flickering in and out of view, significantly lighter than usual.  Focusing on his breathing, he willing himself to be calm again, watching the chains fade back to solidity, feeling his curse of a hostage still heavy on the other end of it.

****

“It’s alright to not be okay,” his colleague said quietly. “I don’t expect you to be fine with all this. You don’t need to be strong all the time. You _can’t_ be.”

****

“I don’t have a _choice_ ,” Kurapika snapped, instantly regretting his harshness when Melody flinched in response. Trying to sound a little gentler, he continued. “This changes nothing. I need to get Gon and Killua back, no matter what.”

****

Melody didn’t say a word.

****

“...could you…” the blonde considered the request for a moment. “Could you… not tell Leorio this?”

****

“What do you mean?”

****

“I’m not ready for him to know. Or Gon and Killua.” He paused. “Especially Gon.”

****

“You can’t hide it from them forever,” his colleague huffed. “Leorio’s worried about you! And the others will be too.”

****

“I’ll tell them,” Kurapika said resignedly. “Just… not yet. I don’t want it to get in between rescuing my friends.” A dry laugh was bubbling up in his throat. “It’s better to give it a little time. I think. Before I tell everyone my soul mark is the same as the murderer of my clan’s.”

****

Melody just gave a small nod of agreement. “Alright,” she conceded. “But they need to know. Soon.”

****

They fell silent as Leorio ran into the room, brandishing bottles full of rubbing alcohol, medical glue, and bandages. “What’d I miss?”

****

* * *

****

It had been difficult to convince Leorio that everything was alright. The older man had finally backed off, but only out of respect for Kurapika’s privacy and not because he believed the flimsy excuses he’d gotten from him. “I better be getting a full explanation soon,” the doctor-in-training had warned, before reluctantly leaving to monitor the landing ground as they neared it, leaving Melody behind to watch Kurapika.

****

The two colleagues sat together in the sitting room, almost completely silent. The Kurta had not moved since being hauled there an hour before, the only change being the sanguine tones had receded from his vision. His wrist throbbed anew, the adrenaline passing and the combined pain of burning soul mark and the self-inflicted cuts making it painful to move. _“You’re going to need stitches,”_ Leorio had remarked, looking quite upset about the whole matter.

****

Kurapika did not blame him in the least.

****

Melody had never been the overly talkative type, but the combination of the current mission and recent revelations had rendered the room dead silent, in which she could no doubt hear the pain in the Kurta’s heartbeat loud and clear.

****

Suddenly, the intercom clicked on, Leorio’s gravelly voice blaring through. _“We’re landing in ten minutes.”_

****

Stomach churning with newfound anxiety, Kurapika rose. “Alright,” he said, turning to Melody. “It’s time.”

****

* * *

****

Hesitating, the Kurta stood outside the storage chamber, eyes trained on the chain that crept through the gap between the door and the doorframe, dangling from his right hand. His soul marked arm was fully bandaged and tucked deep inside his sleeve where nobody could see it.

****

“Kurapika?” Melody’s voice was soft, almost apologetic. “Should I go get him instead?”

****

“No,” he sighed. _I’m not a coward. I can do this, goddamnit!_  “You go on ahead to the dock, I’ll catch up with you.”

****

His colleague’s eyes were questioning. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

****

_I need to show him that this doesn’t matter to me,_ he decided. “Yes. Don’t worry about it. I feel better now.” The words were a blatant lie and both of them were fully aware. Kurapika managed a weak smile, and Melody seemed to cave, if only because she decided to trust him, just this once.

****

“Alright,” She conceded. “I’ll go wait for you.” Stepping away, she seemed to waver for just a moment. “Call me if you need anything.”

****

“I will.”

****

And then she was gone.

****

* * *

 

It took Kurapika a shamefully long time to be able to push the door completely open. He was alternating between feeling sick and wanting to punch something, neither of which were exactly a good way to demonstrate your calm. Setting his shoulders back, he attempted to push his chin up to some semblance of the confidence and hatred he had had earlier, stepping into the room to see his hostage sitting on crates near the window.

****

The loosening of the chains from earlier had given him much leeway. Now, he sat with a couple of rounds of chains lazily draped around his middle and his legs, one lone strand falling diagonally across his chest. It was infuriating how he wore them almost like they were a fashion statement.

****

Scowling, the Kurta reactivated chain jail, watching in some sort of twisted satisfaction as the chains wound themselves all the way up Chrollo’s body as the Troupe Leader turned to face him. The amusement that had melted away with Paku’s negotiations had come flooding back, lighting up his entire face like he was a child. “Oh, hello there, chain-user,” the older man remarked, rising with maddening balance despite being bound. “Or I suppose I should just call you Kurapika now.”

****

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” the blonde hissed, yanking the chain, causing Chrollo to stumble. “I will not hesitate to hurt you.”

****

“So you have demonstrated thus far.” The blows Kurapika had delivered earlier had already faded to a light pink, the blood drying flaky, much to his chagrin.

****

Opening the door to the room once more, he yanked the chain again, almost relishing the feeling of pulling around the murderer like he was a disobedient dog. “We’re landing for the exchange,” the Kurta said simply. “It’s in your best interest to behave.”

****

“Now, that’s not the way you should speak to your soul mate,” Chrollo was wearing the most vexing smirk that make Kurapika’s hand itch to hit him again.

****

“You seem to be under some delusion that some trick played on us by karma is going to change anything.” Kurapika was now struggling to keep his cool as he led his hostage through the winding halls. “Soul mark or no mark, it means nothing to me.”

****

“I doubt something that means so little would have gotten such a reaction out of you.” Another cheeky smile.

****

_God, I despise him._ The Kurta took a deep breath, clenching his jaw in an effort to keep from strangling the man in front of him right then and there. _If I gagged him, there would be no problem at all._ But that would feel too much like losing at whatever kind of banter they had been having. _I’m not that weak._ “I was more surprised that the heartless leader of the Phantom Troupe was capable of having a soul mate,” he hissed finally, attempting a jab but rather failing in the endeavor.  

****

For the first time since he had lost his nen, Chrollo seemed to truly be enjoying himself. “Why so? Everyone has a soul mate, don’t they?”

****

Kurapika spared a glance at him. “It’s hard to imagine you being good thing in anyone’s life,” he said, pleased when his tone was at least somewhat even.

****

“That’s a rather banal sort of soul mate, don’t you think?” the troupe leader paused, eyes raking over the blonde’s face. “Maybe we can be mutually bad for each other.”

****

* * *

 

Kurapika had gagged him again. Losing whatever remained of his pride was alright if compared to having to listen to Chrollo go on about the one thing he absolutely did not want to talk about. _Think about something else,_ he told himself. _I will not break down in front of him. I would rather die._

****

Much to his relief, the long, silent walk was finally over. The intercom clicked on again, Leorio’s voice ringing through: _“Two minutes until we land!”_ Up ahead, at the end of the hall, the Kurta could see the uneven floor panel, covering the ladder that led to the dock. Making his way over, he pulled up the trapdoor by the handle, checking to make sure the ladder was in place.

****

“Kurapika?” it was Melody, voice taking on an echo from the metal chamber below.

****

“We’re coming down,” he yelled back at her, turning to see Chrollo, who stared at him with raised eyebrows and an expression of mocking gaiety, eyes darting to the ladder.

****

The blonde rolled his eyes. “If you hurt Melody before I get down there, I will not hesitate,” he warned, but it was obvious his threat hadn’t been taken very seriously. Eyes still locked on his hostage, he loosened the chains, the metal clinking together as it snaked from his legs and torso to grip like a vice around his left arm. The choice arm of arm had been mostly subconscious, but Kurapika was glad; he didn't want to run the risk of seeing the godforsaken mark that bound him to the sinner.

****

Almost as if he had just woken up from a long nap, the older man rolled out his shoulders, stretching his arms just a bit before taking to face his captor. “He’s coming down, Melody,” Kurapika yelled out as a warning hoping she heard him from far down below. He looked up to see Chrollo approaching him slowly and deliberately. “What are you doing?” he asked, melting into a defensive position.

****

“What are you so jumpy for?” the Troupe Leader quipped simply, taking another sauntering step.

****

“I’m not,” the Kurta hissed, wondering if he could simply push Chrollo down the hatch at this point.

****

His hostage cocked his head. “I don’t even have my nen. I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to, _love_.”

****

_Love?!_ The word sounded infuriatingly good said in his deep voice, and Kurapika wanted to bleach his brain for just thinking that. “I _will_ hurt you,” he said simply, pulling out his pocket knife from his belt. This man did not deserve to see his Kurtan weapons.

****

Chrollo lunged forward, the scramble for the knife knocking Kurapika into the wall and the older man almost off of his feet. The blonde managed a shallow slice at the other man’s forearm before the blade was knocked out of his hand with swift pressure at his wounded wrist. The blonde winced, biting his tongue as the Troupe Leader pushed him backward, head hitting the metal wall with a dull _clang._

****

Kurapika immediately brought his injured arm up to his head, nursing the bump while simultaneously willing chain jail to reimprison Chrollo. However, his attack swiftly stuttered to a stop as he noticed how close the other man was to him.

****

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, voice coming out weaker than he wanted it to. Quieter. _I’m pathetic._

****

He got no response. The next thing he knew, there were a pair of lips on his, his back hitting the wall again as he instinctively grabbed a handful of Chrollo’s jacket and his own chains, toes barely brushing the floor. It was hot, wet, warm, _disgusting,_ but it felt so good that it was like his breath had just been taken away from him. Everything tasted and smelled like blood, even the pristine fur of Chrollo’s coat carded through Kurapika’s fingers. Some part of him was telling him to recoil, to hit Chrollo, to do _something,_ but all his body wanted was to revel in the cold hands sneaking around his waist and the harsh lips on his. It just felt so right, just as it felt sickeningly wrong. _Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop--_

****

His thoughts were interrupted as the Troupe Leader let him catch a breath, moving down to Kurapika’s jawline, nipping at it to observe the younger man’s reaction. _Oh god._ Chain jail was tightening; he could tell from the way Chrollo’s breath hitched suddenly. “You’re rather feisty,” the older man remarked cheekily, voice husky and _oh_ so pleasant to hear. _Has his voice always been so nice?_

****

“ _KURAPIKA!_ CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Melody voice came from down below, the echoing yell snapping the blonde out of whatever reverie he was in as he truly realized what he had just been doing. _Pinned against a wall. By my soul mate._ His thought process came to an abrupt halt. _No no no-- by the Leader of the Phantom Troupe. And kissing him. Oh, good lord goddamnit for fuck’s sake shit fuck shit--_

****

“Get _away_ from me!” Shoving Chrollo off of him, Kurapika pushed himself away from the wall, feeling too much like a cornered animal. “You sick _bastard_ \--”

****

“That’s not what you were thinking a moment ago, I bet,” the Troupe Leader replied casually, not shaken at all, watching Kurapika’s face turn various shades of red. “There’s a lot where that—“

****

Before he could finish his sentence, the Kurta kicked him into the opposite wall, the chains clanging against the scratched and dented metal loudly and dulling the noise of the thud caused by the older man’s head snapping back onto to the wall.

****

It frustrated Kurapika to no end that Chrollo showed no reaction whatsoever. The chains were tightening; he was sure, but it didn’t seem to affect his hostage in the least, even as he was gagged once again.

****

“Go.”

****

It was one word, the chains loosening around Chrollo’s legs in the slightest as the blonde looked anywhere but the man and the hatch to the dock. For whatever reason, the command was not reacted to in the least and the older man managed to make his way to the ladder rather placidly.

****

Kurapika has absolutely no idea how (or if) Chrollo managed to get down to the floor with no help or no concussion, but it was the least of his worries. After all, he was the leader of the Phantom Troupe— who knew what talents he could be hiding? No, the thing bothering Kurapika the most was the way his lips were burning, his cheeks were burning, his hands were burning, _he was burning burning burning---_

****

_Breathe,_ he told himself, struggling to as his lungs felt like they were on fire. His eyes had turned again, painting everything a depressingly watery shade of magenta. To no avail, he tried to escape from his own vision, screwing his eyes shut, but that only amplified the ghosts of the fingers that now felt branded into his skin, burning along with the stabbing pain in the cuts along his wrist.

****

Again, he could feel the urge to cry bubbling up. _I’m not a child,_ he told himself, _Not again. Not now._

****

“Kurapika?” It was Melody again, the sweet, caring coworker that was was so good to him, who deserved more than a half-baked revenge plan and a trembling bundle of nerves and anger on the floor.

****

She had climbed up the ladder. Faintly, he could hear her voice in the back of his thoughts, asking if he was okay.

****

He was not.

****

* * *

 

 _“Go,”_ He had told her. _“I need a moment._ ” And so she had given him one. Left him up here to dwell in his own misery.

****

His eyes darted up to the clock. It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Distantly, Leorio could be heard shouting, threatening to kill Chrollo, growling like a feral animal.

****

It was almost comforting.

****

_This isn’t me._ Kurapika buried his face in his hands again, felt duly nauseous. _I can’t let this stop me._

****

Letting his head fall back against the wall he took a deep, shaky breath. When he closed his eyes, images of Pairo, his mother, his father, all the people he loved: they flashed back to him like they were in a broken movie reel. And every time, it ended with their haunting, eyeless faces stretched into long, ever-frozen screams.

****

Kurapika could remember every moment when he had found his mother. He had been shaking, _shaken,_ to his core, watching all the ghoulish faces on the streets of his home as he made his way into his mother’s house. The door was open, the furniture was strewn about. His mother’s favorite tapestry, the one she had made herself, laid in an undignified pile on the floor, unraveling.

****

All of it was a bad sign on its own, but there was still some optimistic, naive side of Kurapika at the time. _Maybe she hid,_ he thought. _Maybe she wasn’t here when they got here._ And so he trekked, fists clenched, into the house, hoping, praying, _begging_ that she be okay.

****

When he found her sprawled on the floor of her bedroom, hand outstretched towards the broken window, he knew his worst fears had come to light.

****

In retrospect, Kurapika has no idea how long he had spend cradling her head in his lap, stroking her hair back like she used to his. “Sleep well, Momma” he had whispered, again and again and again until his voice cracked and dried and he could no longer remember where or who he was or why he was living any longer. _Momma._ Old lullabies had stumbled clumsily out of his mouth, anecdotes that he had told her a thousand times, truths that he had wished he had told her while she was still alive.  _Momma._

****

For hours, maybe even for days, he had sat there, talking to the tortured, lifeless husk that had been his mother.  _Momma._

****

And now, Kurapika sat, quivering and shaking on the floor of the airship, wishing his mother was there. What would she have said?  _Be strong, Pika,_ she used to tell him as a child. _Don’t let them get to you._ But what could those words do, when he felt betrayed? Betrayed by the universe, by fate, by _his own body._

****

It was in this moment that he suddenly recalled Leorio’s face, wearing a worried and serious expression. _“Fight for who’s alive, Kurapika,”_ the doctor-in-training had told him once.

****

_“But you fight for your friend,”_ The Kurta had replied at the time.

 

 _“He drives me, but I fight to help those that are alive,”_ Leorio had said. _“Believe me, it’s the only way you can stand to live with yourself.”_

****

Back then, the words had seemed a little frivolous to Kurapika. After all, the two hunters’ situations weren’t exactly comparable. It wasn’t as if Leorio would hunt down every doctor who turned down his pleas to treat his friend.

****

_But then again…_ Gon and Killua’s faces floated into the blonde’s mind, with their obnoxious competitions, their loud laughter, their boyish immaturity and their immense skill. _I can’t let this jeopardize their safety._

****

Swallowing, Kurapika rose, legs feeling weak and stiff. _I can’t save my people anymore. No matter what I do._ He clenched his hands into fists, letting the sensation of cold, hard, unforgiving metal on his fingers ground him. _But I can save my friends._

****

* * *

 

By the time Kurapika had come down to the dock, bandages and hair readjusted and eyes back to a docile shade of blue, Melody was having a hard time holding Leorio back.

****

“Let me go, goddamnit!” He hissed, pushing the tiny woman away from him before he turned to see Kurapika standing there, face drawn to what could only be described as a poker face. “Kurapika, you…” his eyes raked over his friend, trying to see anything newly amiss. He came up empty. “Are you--”

****

“This isn’t the time.” Straightening his shoulders, the blonde waved off Leorio’s questions.

****

“But--”

****

“It can wait. Gon and Killua are more important right now.”

 

His friend had nothing to say in opposition to that. “Alright,” he grumbled finally, casting an angry glance at Chrollo, who was standing behind Melody, eyes more awake and amused than Kurapika had even seen them.

****

Seething, the Kurta snatched his gaze away, resolving to keep as much distance as he possibly could. If fate was on his side, after today, he would never have to see his _soul mate_ again. At that thought, his wrist pulsed painfully, almost as if it was a reminder that all the cards were constantly stacked against him. Grimacing, he turned to Melody. “What’s the status?”

****

“Their airship has landed, but Pakunoda has remained inside with Gon and Killua awaiting instructions. Hisoka is waiting outside,” his colleague reported, wringing her hands. “Should we be worried about him?”

****

“I know this reasons,” the blonde replied, shaking his head. “If worst comes to worst, we will have to fight him.”

****

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Leorio interjected with a snort. “I don’t think we would make it.”

****

_I beg to differ,_ Kurapika thought, but he made no attempt to voice his opinion. Gaze set and determined, he turned to his friends. “Tell Pakunoda to come out to meet us. It’s time.”

****

* * *

 

With Chrollo on his left and Melody and Leorio to his right, Kurapika stood, facing his other friends on the opposite side of the landing ground. With his companions, Kurapika felt stronger and reassured. Other the other hand, the Troupe Leader’s presence felt like a weight; a volatility.

****

He chose to ignore the feeling.

****

Instead, he tried his best to look into Gon and Killua’s eyes from across the rocky expanse, even though he couldn’t make out their features perfectly. He had called Killua, instructing him to hold the phone to his heart. Melody confirmed that the two were safe and not under any influence. Eyes flashing red again, this time by will and not from trauma, Kurapika watched as the exchange began.

****

Gon and Killua made their way across the rugged terrain, looking comically bored in the situation. Chrollo took off in turn, sauntering with his hands tucked in his pockets. He was walking painfully slowly. Despite his best efforts, Kurapika’s eyes kept on darting back to the Troupe Leader's retreating back, breath stuck painfully in his throat.

****

Leorio seemed to have already forgotten the whole crisis, a brilliant smile lighting up his face as their two youngest friends rushed forward. “Gon!” he laughed. “Killua! Are you guys alright?”

****

“Doing great,” Killua laughed, sticking his tongue out cheekily. “How about you, old man?”

****

The doctor-in-training automatically descended into a barrage of insults that faded to the back of Kurapika’s consciousness as he let out the anxious breath he didn’t know he had been holding. His friends were here, they were _safe._ He didn’t have to worry about them anymore.

****

And that was the thought that let his eyes stray to Chrollo, who still hadn’t made it to Hisoka, who was waiting with eyes full of bloodlust and hunger. And that was the moment that the Troupe Leader turned back for just a split second, fixing Kurapika with a look that chilled him to the bone, brought the blood to his skin and filled him with some sort of adrenaline-filled high.

****

It was a simple look. There had been no facial expression at all: a poker face with his dark, deep set eyes staring right into Kurapika’s. The moment had been tinged a strong shade of crimson, making Chrollo seem almost like a red demon waiting to consume the Kurta with just his gaze.

****

Chrollo turned away again, at it was like something broke between them. A connection; _a chain_. Cursing under his breath, Kurapika turned away, herded back into the airship by the his boisterous friends. Melody smiled at him quietly, all her reassurance packed into her expression. The Kurta mustered up a smile of his own, letting himself get swept away by Gon’s dramatic reenactments of his time as a hostage and Leorio and Killua’s angry squabbling.

****

Before he knew it, the ship was hovering in the air. Melody was in the control room with Leorio, while Killua and Gon had gone off to raid the fridge.

****

Kurapika stood, alone, at the window, gazing down at Chrollo and Hisoka, who stood facing each other on the ground below. The Troupe Leader’s stance was impassionate, charged, and rigid. _If he makes contact with a Troupe member, he dies,_ the Kurta reminded himself. _Now he’ll know the pain of losing your home._

****

The angry red finally faded from the Kurta’s vision, letting him see the dreary scene in full, muted color. He turned away from the window, hearing the laughter and thundering footsteps of Killua and Gon approaching quickly. Fixing a smile onto his face, he set his shoulders back again, tugging his sleeve over the bandages over his wrist. _This changes nothing,_ he reminded himself resolutely. _Nothing at all._  

****

But somewhere, in the deepest, darkest depths of his heart, Kurapika knew.

****

The hands of fate would never be so kind to him.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked it! I really appreciate constructive criticism, especially about the structure and characterization, or even the pacing. Anything I could improve on. :) I was very worried about Kurapika's characterization in this, especially. I was thinking of making a one-shot sequel to this, but the idea is very vague right now, so if you want to leave ideas for that, please do so, I might take them into account! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and I hope I see you around! ^^


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